I woke up, breathless and sweating. I'd never seen a dream like that before, and it made my heart pound and — I blushed to realize my, uh, thingy was hard. It had been doing that sometimes; I didn't know why, but I didn't want to embarrass myself to ask Mom.

When I could finally walk without it poking out so much, I got out of bed and walked to the door. With my favorite stuffed animal in tow, I opened my bedroom door and, after a moment to psych myself upon seeing how dark the house was in the middle of the night — despite the nightlights dotted around — made my way down the hallway towards my parents' room. Or, more accurately, Mom's room, since Dad had left many years ago and never come back. I reached up to the doorknob, turning it quietly and, after a moment, walking inside. I made my way over to Mom's bed and, reaching up, tugged on the sheets a bit to try to wake Mom up. "Mom?"

A rustling sound came from the sheets as she rolled toward the side of the bed, half-awake. "Hmm? What's up, ${name}? You alright?" Her voice sounded groggy, as if she was still half-asleep, but warm, and full of love and concern. It made me feel bad to wake her, but I wanted Mom's comfort after the dream.

"C-can I sleep in your bed tonight? I had a...weird dream," I said, shyly looking down, noticing there was still a bit of a bulge in the front of my pajama bottoms. I hoped she would just assume I had a bad dream and not anything else; I didn't know what she or I would do if she guessed the reason.